Chackenstein
by Monday Mourning in the Asylum
Summary: When misfortune befalls Jack Spicer, Chase defies all laws of reason and nature to protect him. Lemony Twists, contains Yaoi.
1. In the Storm

Jack looked up at Chase for what felt like the millionth time after begging for an apprenticeship. He was eighteen and living on his own, and yet he still wanted it so badly. Chase was once again unenthused.

"Please Chase, I'll do anything to be by your side, anything," Jack pleaded, hugging Chase's knees with all of his unimpressive might.

Chase was tired of the charade he had been playing since Jack was roughly twelve, and yet he had staved off until Jack's maturation. However, now Chase knew that while he could not hold him off much longer, but he was also aware that he would have to ease affection into his mannerisms ever so subtly.

But for now, Chase needed satiation.

"Anything, Spicer?" Chase asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Jack nodded silently, his eyes to the floor.

Chase smirked, "well then," he said, unlacing his trousers, and exposing his manhood, "prove your allegiance, worm."

Jack swallowed instinctually. He wasn't so sure that he was ready, or even wanted this. Chase was big... really big, and if he screwed up now, Chase would never accept him. But Chase didn't care; Chase never cared about what Jack wanted. Chase was in it for himself. But Jack had to hope.

Jack opened his mouth, and began to administer to the Warlord. At first, he felt as though he were going to choke, and it hurt. But he soon became accustomed to the rhythm. Chase held onto the back of Jack's head, the other gripped the arm of his throne. He groaned salaciously at the attention, as he hadn't been touched in years. Jack was mortified, he felt so dirty, so wrong, but in a bad way; He began to let the tears he had been holding back leak out and stain his face. After what seemed like a quarter of an hour, Chase bucked into a climax. He bruised up Jack's throat in the process, and filled the young man's mouth. As he pulled out, a slight spray alighted onto Jack's face.

Jack was a mess, a pitiful, disgusting mess. And he knew it.

Chase scowled coldly at the youth. His job done, Jack was of little use to Chase at the moment.

"Go home and clean yourself up Spicer," he growled, "You won't see me again until I say so. Just please, go home."

Jack realized what a fool he had been. He shouldn't have ever expected Chase to follow up on his end of the bargain; it hadn't been the first time. Jack wiped his face on his sleeve, walked to the end of the hall, gave one last tearful look at Chase, and flew off into the night.

A small flurry of snow was the only trace that he had ever even been in Chase's palace.

* * *

It was six o'clock the next morning when a large bang brought Chase Young to his front door. Floating listlessly before Chase was a Jackbot, nothing special, just a plain, bronze and black Jackbot.

"Excuse me Lord Young, but have you seen Master?" The machine buzzed, "He did not return home last night."

Chase's eyes widened dramatically, Jack was gone...

"We lost radio communication with Master late last night during the blizzard." The robot continued, "This was the last recording we received."

The Robot crackled and hissed with a staticky facsimile of Jack's voice:

"Jackbots... I want pajamas laid out and a hot bath running by the time I get home..." Jack chocked a sob, "And the usual mix of pills, but add another pain pill just in case... I'll be home i- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArgh!"

Chase instinctively covered his mouth with one gloved hand. He may have inadvertently killed Jack. He felt as if his blood had been converted to ice.

The Robot continued. "We lost radar, communications, and tracking signals the Master usually sends out, and now we cannot find him. Would you know where he is?"

Chase scowled, "I don't know now, but I am going to find him..."

And without another word, he teleported to the throne room. Scrying the Eye-Spy Orb, Chase found no trace of Jack. Every time he tried to search for Jack, he got expanses of ice and snow. Finally, thoroughly fed up with his ineffective searches, he traveled to the wastes dictated by the orb.

Chase spent the next several hours searching for Jack to no avail, when he came upon something that worried him deeply. Embedded in the snow was a flock of dead birds, which appeared to have been flayed to ribbons by some razor's edge. Amongst the carnage was one of Jack's Heli-pack propellers, bent and damaged, it's wires extended from the retractable pole. Chase cursed inwardly, Jack couldn't fly very far or very well on one propeller, he would have...

And that's when he saw it, the flapping cloth in the tree nearly a hundred yards from where he was standing. The wind had caught the edges of Jack's trench coat, and threatened to dislodge them. Hanging from the branches was Jack's beloved coat and the remains of his Heli-Pack. Following the trail of damage to the base of the tree, Chase let loose a single tear, because a single white hand clawed up from the snow bank surrounding the roots. Something precious had been lost in the storm.

"Spicer."

* * *

Chase was the only human at the service, all other chairs were filled by machination Jack had cared for; Chameleonbot, his RoboJack, and a legion of Jackbots, all in attendance to their beloved master's last rites. One of the Machines endowed with AI performed the service and eulogy, expressing all of the kindness and love Jack had shown them all throughout the years, and how they had been happy to serve such a great Master.

Chase placed an envelope in Jack's cold, icy hands, and closed the casket.

When the burial was over, Chase teleported home to cry, because he knew this was all his fault.

In that letter were all the things Chase should have told Jack and everything he had intended to tell Jack. How he had always felt some love for Jack, how his last promise he had intended to keep, how sorry he was for taking advantage of such a loving young man so often. How much he would miss him.

For the next week, Chase didn't bother to leave his bed, and his warriors were smart enough not to argue.

Wuya however, was not nearly so bright, and thought a little gift would cheer Chase up.

Perhaps something Chase could make suffer.

She scoured the astral plane searching for a sufficiently miserable creature, and that's where she had found the perfect thing.

She left the wooden box above Chase's bedding and left the room, waiting with anticipation for a reward that would never come.

Chase read the card:

_Chase,_

_I'm sorry to hear that you've been so listless without Spicer's life to make miserable, so I did a little digging (figuratively, not literally, what I found was the only part not in the ground.) and got you a gift you'll just love to break._

_Here's to hoping some of that excess energy gets spent on me,_

_Wuya_

Chase shuddered in horror, but was still curious. As he lifted the lid, he heard a weak whimpering. Peering inside, Chase was greeted with a sight that instantly brought all life back to his form. For inside the box was a very weak, very spectral Jack Spicer. No body, no flesh, just a tattered and battered soul struggling to stay coherent without a form to latch onto.

"Don't worry Jack; I won't leave you to the storm this time." Chase whispered, hugging the box to his chest.

Chase rose from his bed, knowing that there was much work to be done.


	2. Breathe Again

Jack remembered pain... and then cold... and then a dull warmth. His world faded into darkness, and he felt himself leave the mortal plane. He floated listlessly throughout the abyss, knowing that he was unwanted in both heaven and hell, and seeing as he had turned away from the Catholic teachings of his parents, there was no purgatory to numb the pain. He floated on, without form in limbo. Doomed to an eternity of nothingness...

Just like before.

And that's when ishe/i came, the foul harpy that had come into his life, given him dreams of greatness, only to mock his failures and then leave him to his own failed devices.

She descended upon him like a the howling wind, and he remembered only darkness once more.

Jack could feel his soul unraveling, his very essence dissipating without an anchoring force. So he slept, hoping to stave off the damage. He needn't sleep, and hardly could, but it was his only means for a day and a half.

The lid was opened upon his prison, and he saw Chase's face. And yet all he could do was huddle over what was left of his spectral form to prevent from dissipating in the blazing light that was Chase's essence. Chase, that most beautiful and powerful of men, had been the last person he had seen before his own demise. Jack still felt that warmth of adoration glow through his phantasm, and it cost him dearly as he unraveled more.

Chase lovingly clutched the box, and whispered comforting words to the box, and that was the first affection Jack had ever received at the hands of Chase. Jack drifted back to sleep, knowing that he was safe for the time being.

* * *

Chase pored over dozens of tomes, hoping for a method of restoring Jack, but all were to ghastly to bear.

A homunculus was impractical in that it ensured that Jack would be less than human, but a soul-feasting monstrosity hell-bent on destruction. Creating a pseudo-body would not create the desired result, as they always seemed to fall apart too quickly (Something he had failed to tell Wuya). A stone and clay golem was simply out of the question for what he had in mind. And a thousand other options all not Jack in the slightest. Jack would want to be as original as possible, dark, and gothic. Perhaps something a bit more stoic and serious, but stronger too. Chase wanted Jack to be one of the few people strong enough to withstand Chase at his worst.

Chase plopped down into an armchair and a black panther padded up to the warlord with something in its mouth.

"Not now," Chase groused, "can't you see I'm busy?"

The panther nudged Chase's knee and dropped the parcel into his master's lap. Upon unwrapping it, Chase found a book, a fresh paperback copy, worth nothing in terms of value, but priceless in terms of ideas. It was a copy of Mary Shelley's uFrankenstein/u.

Would Jack go for it? Could Chase stand the thought of reviving Jack's body? It had been dead for weeks, completely unviable. And yet, he had his suspicions. He patted the panther upon the head, and headed for the parlor. There was the often unused rotary phone, Chase had had it installed for novelty many many years ago, and had used it sparsely. This, however, was an emergency.

Chase dialed the number Jack had given him for the lab... the number he had been given at least a hundred times. After seven dials, a robot patched into the system.

"Hello, the Late Jack Spicer's laboratory, RoboJack speaking." came the voice, "How may I help you?"

Chase breathed a sigh of relief, "RoboJack, This is Chase Young speaking. I need some information."

"Well, I do have orders to answer all questions posed by you," RoboJack replied.

"I'm working on a way to get Jack back, but I want to know what condition the body would be in if I had to retrieve it." Chase replied coolly, not bothered by the opinions of a machine.

RoboJack was silent for a minute, and then responded, "I just got the data from the tech department. Jack had a hermetically sealed, temperature controlled, antimicrobial coffin made, meaning that the body is still fresh. At least in theory."

"Do you robots mind horribly if I dig him up?" Chase asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Well, no, but you're going to have to pick the brain up from headquarters. Jack specifically asked for it to be preserved through stasis chamber." RoboJack admitted sheepishly, "But you may want to wait a while, you'll only have three hours before it rots."

"Is there anything that would need replacing on Jack?" Chase questioned, "Time is of the essence."

RoboJack recited from file all damage known, "He's missing a leg, an arm, but has the hand, his liver was punctured, a fresh lung would be in order, and you'll have to swap out part of the top of the head, because it's artificial. The real scalp was torn off in the fall."

Chase scowled darkly into the receiver. "I'll be calling for your assistance when I'm hooking Jack up, I'll need someone to help with the galvanization. Expect my call."

"Of course," RoboJack replied cheerfully, and the call was disconnected.

Chase spent the next several hours putting together his alchemic laboratory before going off to perform his grisly deed.

* * *

Chase teleported to the graveyard they had laid Jack to rest in so many weeks ago. Luckily it was dark and misty, so no one would notice Chase's actions. He pressed his palms firmly to the ground and channeled his magic into the ground. Trees around him began to gnarl, twist, and die. A rumbling sound was heard and the ground split. Jack's coffin was thrust up from the ground, nestled in the twisted roots of the trees. It was set on the ground delicately, still gleaming beneath the grime of the earth.

Chase shifted into his dragon form and hoisted the large coffin, and reversed the effects he had caused to the ground, sinking the tombstone to hide the evidence that Jack had ever resided there. He double checked his grip on the coffin and teleported home.

The laboratory was below freezing, set that way to discourage rot and festering. As luck would have it, Jack's systems had held well, and he was without corruption. Jack laid there, his body a beautiful wreck. His scalp was missing over one third of his head, and his leg missing above the knee. The hand had been attached to a prosthetic forearm for the time being, which had been removed. Chase had sewn up most of the gouging wounds inflicted by the propeller blades, and turned the jagged stumps into clean surgical stubs. All that remained was the replacement parts, which would be difficult to find.

Chase refused to use mechanical parts on Jack, even though it's what he would have wanted. Chase wanted Jack to be as human as possible. Although, he wasn't opposed to cheating the rules established by Mother Nature. While he was working on Jack, he pulsed a small portion of magic deep into his core, giving him bone density and muscle strength comparable to Chase's own godlike physique. He scoured the obituaries for information on recently deceased albinos, and harvested those with like traits common to Jack's own form. The muscles were sutured with the greatest of care, and within one week of attempting his goal, he had all but triumphed.

RoboJack assisted with the introduction of the grey matter back into Jack's cranium, and introduced temporary nanites into the bloodstream to repair any damage unseen to the human eye. Jack's missing scalp portion received a transplant from a young albino who had recently passed, and the nanites sealed the cranium and scalp as if nothing had ever happened.

Aside from all the stitches, staples, and sutures, Jack looked as if he were merely in a deep slumber.

Chase summoned a storm cloud above his castle and lowered Jack's delicate form into the tub of vital essences necessary for conductivity. As he attached the electrodes to effectively jumpstart Jack's brain and heart, he brushed a soft kiss against Jack's ivory lips, still bluish from the icy kiss of death.

And then there was a crash, and the lightning struck.

As Jack's eyes fluttered open for the first time in weeks, Chase couldn't contain a grin as his heart's desire was once again restored.


	3. Seeing Red

Jack struggled against the throbbing pain deep inside his head. It was the same pain he often felt after an electric shock. He had become quite used to those after a while. However, this was a new form of pain, as if his whole body had fallen asleep and yet he was aware. The tingling sensation left Jack as helpless as a babe. He could not raise a finger in his current state, and it felt like hours before the pain and numbness receded. He swung his tender legs to the side of the gurney, and noticed with a shock that one limb was a different shade of pale than the other.

This new leg had a slight pinkness to it that his skin was not accustomed to. He felt the mild raised scar and stitching where it met his old thigh. He felt the same with his new, slightly more jaundiced forearm. His hands flew about his body, finding every stitch and staple. He sprang up with feverish intention and looked for a reflective surface.

Had there been anything in his stomach, he would have had to struggle to keep down his gorge. But as it was, he was still fighting off a dry heave. He was hideous; his once pale and relatively flawless skin was now pallid and riddled with scars and stitches. His hair was a ragamuffin bundle of red and white hairs, as if someone had filled in gaps with someone else's hair. His face had a long stitch down the cheek, only drawing further attention to something that truly horrified Jack.

Whatever the cause, Jack was now truly a freak. Instead of seeing red irises, two eyes stared back at Jack, one being his, while the other was foreign to Jack. It was a pale pink, as though someone had taken a rabbit's eye, or another albino's, and replaced one of Jack's crimson orbs with it. That is when it finally dawned on him.

"These limbs..." He murmured with dawning horror and revulsion, "This eye... they're someone else's. I'm attached to a dead person."

Jack wanted to scream, to tear the eye from out of his skull, to wrench open the stitches about him and fall to pieces. He wanted to open up the Y-shaped stitches on his chest and undoubtedly pull out the accursed heart that beat within. But he couldn't. Not without answers.

He sat for a moment, taking in this horrible information with as much rationality as he could muster under the circumstances. He knew this much. He had to have died at some point, but had been revived. There was galvanic equipment heaped everywhere, and a thunderstorm was raging outside. Someone had stitched him up after something, used parts from other individuals, and shocked him back to life.

...

But who would want to?

...

He wasn't special, he wasn't wanted, and he wasn't loved, so why would someone bring him back? Was he just an experiment performed on a random cadaver? Why him? Jack wasn't exactly the best physical specimen to human anatomy...

And then he noticed the amount of muscle tone that had not been there before this. Someone had really pumped Jack up, and while he wasn't about to complain about that, he was still terrified by the whole ordeal. He was clearly trapped, without real clothing, any idea of where he was, or who his captor was in the first place. If Jack had been any more weak than he already was, he would have broken down and cried, but now was not a time for tears, now was a time to run screaming into the night. If only he could figure out how.

Jack tried very hard to think of why he was in this situation, but the moments before waking up were jumbled, as if they had never processed to begin with. He remembered a pelting of small things, a whirr coming to a screeching halt, screams, and then a thud. Before that all he remembered was being ordered out of Chase's palace after...

Jack wanted to cry, but the tears stung the stitches in his eyelid.

At that very moment the door swung wide, and Chase Young stepped through. Jack huddled in the corner, terrified by this turn of events. And yet it all made sense. He saw flashes of Chase, well after what he had originally thought his last memories. Twice he had seen Chase since what had most certainly been his death. And while under other circumstances that would have made him giddy as a school girl, it currently struck fear into the pit of his stomach.

Jack's mind raced. He was being held captive by the Dragon Lord Chase Young. That could only mean that he was to be used as a weapon; after all, Chase only kept things that were useful to him, and what's more useful than a towering golem of flesh? Jack wouldn't have any of that, and while he had once desired nothing but to be at Chase's side, he refused to be near the Warlord in his current state.

He did what any rational and even-tempered individual would have done in that situation. He hurled himself at the window, shattering it, and plunged into the abyss, disregarding the fact that he had no idea as to which story he had been on at the time.

Chase used a very foul word.

* * *

Chase had paced the halls ceaselessly in the hours after the lightning strike, hoping that Jack would regain his capacities quickly, though how quickly even he was not so sure as to. It could be an hour, it could be a day. He just hoped he was there to work Jack through the ordeal.

He wanted so badly to apologize to Jack. He'd used him very poorly, treated him in a way that he realized was far worse than he had intended to, and had let his desires get the best of him. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in Jack's hair and cry with relief. He wanted Jack to forgive him. Jack was going to be a fixture in his life, even if he had to keep him in a tower and service the youth until he agreed. Not the most pleasant of prospects but a risk that Chase was willing to take.

He heard a whimper and clatters from within the operating chamber and was given heart. Jack had reawakened into a world that had sorely missed him... well, to a warlord that had sorely missed him, but that should be enough. As he swung the door wide, he was dismayed at what he beheld.

Jack was whimpering in terror in the corner, looking desperate and confused. Chase felt the guilt he was holding in compound as he realized that Jack had been awake and alone for quite some time. He was about to rush to Jack's side, the fool bolted for the window and crashed through the glass, plummeting into the night without any idea as to what could happen to him in Nowhere.

Chase swore deeply, and rushed after the startled youth.

* * *

Surprisingly, while there had been thunder and lightning, a blizzard was whistling through the wastes of Nowhere, and Jack found himself in the middle of it. Literally. His fall from the third story of Chase's citadel had been cushioned by a snowdrift.

He scrambled away from the drift and found shelter in a crack in the mountain. Jack knew that he would be safe for the moment, but Chase was bound to give pursuit any moment now. He was to be hunted like the monster he now was. He resolved to go down with a fight; he would rather be torn to shreds by jungle cats than to be enslaved in his undeath.

He felt a familiar sensation; the cold was once again fading into warmth as a shadow passed over him.

* * *

Jack was nearly into hypothermia when Chase found him. He bundled the shivering Goth in a heavy blanket, and willed himself and his captive back into the castle, and into a much more accommodating room than the icy little morgue Jack had previously awoken to. The youth continued to thrash against Chase, and it was all he could do to keep the boy as still as possible. He tucked the young albino into a satin and silk bedspread, and willed the boy to sleep, draining his reserves and restoring calm.

Things would be better in the morning.


	4. Test

Jack awoke to a pair of strong arms holding him down fiercely. But he did not feel an anger behind them. It took some effort, but he managed to dislodge himself from his captor, and faced him with great trepidation. Chase stared at him with a surprising mixture of his usual iciness and just the smallest traces of hurt. While shocking and disarming, Jack did not trust this look. The last time Jack had trusted Chase...

"Good morning Spicer," Chase almost purred, "I'm sorry for the discomfort, but I couldn't have you running off again, not in your condition."

Jack, still exhausted from his ordeal, but also weak with sleep, just replied hollowly.

"You did this to me."

Chase paused a bit, and stroked at Jack's hair, carefully separating the red and white locks from each other. "Yes, I brought you back."

Jack let tears flow freely; Chase had created a monster out of him, and would use him like a tool. And that's when the unexpected happened. Chase buried his face in the two-toned mess that was Jack's hair and breathed deeply.

"I missed you," Chase murmured into the silken strands, "I'm so sorry for this."

Jack struggled to be free of the Warlord, hurt and confused by Chase's advance. This wasn't supposed to happen; Jack was a monster, a zombie, nothing better. He pushed off of Chase with all the force he could muster, but in his tired state, it wasn't much. All he could do was stare at Chase with large mismatched eyes full of sorrow and defeat.

"You didn't miss me." Jack replied dully, "you missed having an easy target."

Chase looked at Jack with genuine hurt in his eyes, yet his face did not falter from the small soft smile he had gained while cradling the genius in his arms.

"I did miss you Spicer," he replied, "sometimes you don't realize what's in front of you until it's gone, and I realized that I had something special in front of me for the longest time."

Jack narrowed his eyes and his face soured. "I'm not special; I'm just a weapon to you, another tool in the war on Xiaolin."

Chase arched and eyebrow and responded in a droll tone. "Jack, you were a tool at my disposal before, now I realize that you've always had true potential. I want to make things up to you, but first, do you know what I want?"

Jack looked at Chase with an expression of purest puzzlement before realizing the intention of the seemingly innocuous phrase. With hurt and resignation bearing down on his person, he nodded and began to move his head towards his former idol's nether regions...

Only to have his movement stopped by a gently cupped hand to his cheek, raising him up into a chaste kiss. With eyes half lidded with lust, Chase then began to massage the youth, inspecting the musculature for severed strands or any unseen damage from the fall. His hands kneaded and glided across Jack's pale expanse of skin, skimming over stitches and scars with tender care. He stroked his cheek up and down the column of Jack's neck, appreciative of the sound of a heartbeat heard coursing through the youth's veins.

He returned his intent gaze to Jack's eyes, now slightly glassy with pleasure and delirium, just as Chase had intended. He lifted up the release-lulled albino into his lap and began to speak in a soft, calm voice.

"Spicer, I want to strike a bargain with you, because even though I brought you back to life, and that ishould/i give me control of it, I feel as if it is my fault you died in the first place, making that claim null and void in my eyes. However, I do wish to keep you here, not as a slave, not as a tool, but here nonetheless. I'm sure I'll find use of you soon enough." He said, his whisperings honey-sweet and filled with the breathy air of someone who could charm the angels out of heaven with just a simple and seductive beckon, "I propose a challenge. A test if you will."

Jack's interest, which had grown foggy from the incredible ministrations and Chase's calm and seductive tone, was piqued by the proposition of a possible bid at freedom.

"What sort of test?" Jack asked warily, feeling safe, but still not trusting Chase to the fullest.

"Just a simple game of hide and seek," Chase replied casually, chuckling slightly as he did so, "nothing incredibly thrilling or dramatic, not even one in the form of a Showdown, just a simple game, devoid of magic for the most part. It will take part in the castle and inner gardens, I vow on my life and honor that I shall not leave these walls. I will hide, and you shall seek. If you manage to find me before midnight tonight, you are free to choose your fate. If you fail, you will stay as my guest for the remainder of your life, or as I see fit."

Jack was skeptical. "What happens when I win?" he asked, a hand to his jaw, eyebrow raised.

"_If_ you win, Spicer, you are free to walk out that door and never return," Chase replied coolly, "However, I must warn you. As you are legally dead, when you leave these walls, there is no fortune nor family to return to. Save perhaps your Grandmothers in Europe, who have recently become privy to your resurrection due to your grandmother Gretchen's snooping, how she managed, I'll never know. If you leave, you'll have to start your life over from scratch, a new name, a new home. You will never be allowed back into the Conflict, for your own safety, and I will have no more to do with you."

Jack's eyes went wide for the briefest of moments, but dawning recognition soon replace that expression, only to be replaced once again by firm resolution.

"Alright Chase, I accept your terms."

"Excellent, the game will begin at six a.m." Chase replied, rubbing his hands together in mild anticipation, trying not to appear overly-excited, "I suggest we shower and dress before then."


	5. No Time

Jack found himself, not long after a session of showering and dressing, in the grand hall with Chase. Chase, who, ever the gentlemen, wished to make this as completely fair as possible, and had listed the rules in great detail.

"At this point Spicer," Chase began, "I will teleport to a room in my keep, and hide. It is your task to find me. I will not leave the castle walls, this time, or this dimension. You have until midnight tonight, which gives you eighteen hours to find me and win your freedom. If you fail, you will be teleported to my hiding place, at which point I will tell you what it is, exactly, that I plan to do with you. But know this, no matter what, you will not be harmed. Ever."

Jack nodded silently in approval of the rules, bowed slightly, and shook hands with the warlord, understanding the gravity of the situation and responding appropriately. In a flash, Chase was gone, and Jack began his hunt.

* * *

It was ten o'clock that evening, and Jack was wracking his brains to think of anyplace left to look for Chase.

He had checked the gardens, the hedge maze, the rose gardens, the koi ponds, the sand gardens, the dojo, the gymnasium, the training grounds, the sauna, the dining room, the kitchen, the cupboards, the pantry, the bathroom, the pool house, the den, the parlor, the parapets, the sick bay, the room he had woken up in, and even the dungeons. He had checked every vase, every bookshelf, and every single secret entrance he could find.

He began to stress out, then panic, leading eventually to despair. His mood was not even lightened when he uncovered Chase's stash of completely unused Shen Gong Wu, one of which, the Tongue of Saiping, he pocketed without hesitation.

Realizing that it was no use to continue his searches, he sat in the parlor and used the Tongue of Saiping to speak to the various cats about the castle, all of whom refused to shift into their human forms without Chase's permission.

They told him such fascinating stories, of their origins, of Chase's victories over them, of Chase's habits and mannerisms. Most fascinating of all is what they had to say on the master's true feelings for the albino. Of how often he would watch Jack through his scrying orb or heal him slightly in his sleep. His plans to take Jack at eighteen, and when that had failed, the time he took to bring Jack back.

Jack was moved by Chase's actions, even though the warlord was too proud to admit just how much he cared for the genius. He had admitted a fondness and attraction, but this was quite obviously a love as strong as that which Jack had once held for Chase himself. He thanked the cats for their insights and pearls of wisdom, even going so far as to hug a particularly winsome black panther, who Chase, and admittedly Jack, had a certain fondness for.

Jack wandered the halls, realizing that perhaps a life of servitude, although Chase had promised that would not likely happen, would not be as unbearable as he had previously thought. After all, the cats expressed their pleasure at serving such a master. He mulled over this fact for quite some time, realizing that it wouldn't be long now, not but fifteen minutes to midnight.

Perhaps Chase's advances were genuine... Jack had never been furtive in his; perhaps Chase was finally warming up to him. Whatever the case, he had instigated intimate encounters twice already, and that was more than Jack had ever hoped for.

Jack, in all his genius, realized the one major room he had never checked in all his hours of searching, and quite literally smacked himself for not realizing it sooner.

* * *

Jack began to run, knowing that every second was precious, and as he turned the knob to the door he just knew Chase was behind, the clock began to chime the hour, he had until the twelfth ring before his fate was out of his hands.

He flung the door wide, and beheld a most glorious sight.

Chase was lying on his side on his bed, his silk robe open slightly to expose his chest. Soft tapers lit the room gently as a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace. Chase's glossy raven locks shone green in the light of the fire, his golden eyes nearly glowing beneath lids half-lowered with lust. In his hand was a glass of wine, half the contents of which had already been drained. At his bedside was a bucket of champagne, a fresh silk robe for Jack, and a piece of careworn parchment far too old for Jack to read at a distance.

Chase looked up at Jack and smiled genuinely.

"It looks like you have earned your freedom Spicer," he said, his eyes glimmering ever so slightly, "It is now your choice as to how you wish to go about this. You can go out into the world, I will furnish you with a new identity and we will not see each other, save perhaps in passing, and you will be free of the Xiaolin/Heylin conflict."

There was a pause, Chase looked intently at Jack, who blushed slightly and looked to the floor.

"Or," Chase continued, "You can stay here, with me, we will try to rescind your death certificate and you will become my apprentice. You will have a home here, in the castle, a place to sleep, a room to yourself, and perhaps in time with me. I hope that with time you will become more than an apprentice, and eventually my consort. Whatever your decision, I will accept it, but before you choose, I want to give you a taste of what you will receive, should you stay..."

Jack's blush increased as Chase crept ever closer, his breath ghosting upon Jack's skin. Jack's lips were caught up in a ferocious kiss, one that he reciprocated wholeheartedly. Chase began to work at the snaps on Jack's rather tattered coat, while Jack's hands dove into the open folds of Chase's robe, stroking the firm torso and erect nubs beneath.

In moments, Jack found himself devoid of his top and upon taking a look at his chest, covered himself and turned away. He was covered in scars and stitches, most notably the y-shaped incision that took up the entirety of his cadaverous torso, and appeared to be more of a patchwork quilt than a human being. He wanted to cry, but didn't want to appear completely pathetic around Chase for a change. Chase, realizing Jack's obvious insecurity, began to caress Jack's scar-ridden sides whilst unbuckling the despondent Goth's pants.

"As much as I love this battle scarred form, Spicer, I think it's more than safe for those to come out now, if it's alright by you." Chase whispered, running his hands all over Jack's body. bAll/b over.

Beneath Chase's fingertips, the scars began to fade, the stitches and staples unraveling, unfastening, and ultimately disappearing. Jack's skin, though still slightly mottled from the healing process, would fade to his pristine white within a fortnight. Only his new limbs would bear even the slightest discoloration from the transplant, and even that would be unnoticeable under all but the harshest of lights and scrutiny.

"I don't deserve this, Chase," Jack nearly gasped, relishing the touches Chase bestowed upon him, "I don't deserve you."

Chase began to suckle against the pallid albino flesh at the juncture of Jack's collarbone, a possessive growl tearing through him.

"No Jack, it is I who does not deserve you," he ghosted against the now tender bruise, "You did not warrant those scars to begin with, they were caused by my lust and vanity. If you wish to leave... I will understand, surely you must hate me for my accidental orchestration of your death."

"Cut the maudlin crap Chase," Jack replied, an almost broken sort of joy filling his voice, "You've more than made up for my death, and just because it stopped beating, didn't my heart wasn't still yours. I... I want to stay, if you'll have me. I know I'm not that useful to you, but I want to show you just how much I-"

Jack had been going to continue, but had been silenced by a forceful kiss. Chase tore Jack's remaining undergarments in twain, eliciting a mix between a strangled cry and a forceful moan from the Gothic youth. He began to pump Jack's already hardened member as he dipped his other hand into a shallow bowl of warm fragrant oil, one prepared for the consummation of Heylin virgins. It had taken some research to find though, as the last virgin to join had been Chase himself, Wuya having been known as a notorious whore, even back then. As he began to slick Jack for what they both knew was about to happen, Chase could barely resist the desire to bite his lip at Jack's tightness, it took all of his skill and dexterity to stretch Jack to a point that Chase would not harm him should he become too fervent with his passions. He relished in Jack's moans and pants, and felt a warmth pool into him when, after he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves that was the prostate, Jack began to cry out his name in passion.

Feeling the boy...no, the man, beneath him was ready, Chase began to slather is own desire in the oil, and praying to whatever deities that he still held favor with, that he did not hurt Jack any further before he tentatively slid into Jack's tight, incredibly tight, warm sheath. It took all of Chase's willpower and experience not to release simply upon entering Jack. It was a slow and delicate process to be sure, each inch earned when the hitching gasps became mewls of pleasure, until Chase was hilted within Jack's delicate inner walls. In all honesty, the even that Chase wished would last forever, ended far too quickly for both. Jack, as a virgin, was already at the verge of ecstasy from the ministration of his idol, and it only took a few strokes of Chase's member against his prostate to produce a rafter shaking orgasm from the young genius. Chase followed not soon behind; the pleasure of Jack's tightness incomparable to anything Wuya had ever had to offer. As he rode out his orgasm, Chase clutched Jack to his chest in adoration for the young man who he had literally defied the laws of man to attain.

"Now that I have you Jack, I don't think I'll be letting go for quite some time."


End file.
